Steamy
by Kymba
Summary: How doctors handle a cold.


O o O o O

"What the hell is this?"

"Black walnut and ginger." She replied.

"It's….nice," Sniff.

O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O

Later, House paged them all down to the locker room to listen to the results of Andy's echo. Something about better acoustics. As they were listening to the mitral valve, Cameron bent over, closing her eyes and trying to listen. But she was distracted by the whistling coming from House. Or more specifically, his nose. Cameron was finally able to hear it – an extra flap – and she caught House's eye. His eyes moved over her in appreciation – her quickness, her sharp intelligence, her ear, her ass…

As they filed out to schedule her surgery, Cameron noticed the steam jets come on near the transom windows. She realized that acoustics had nothing to do with it – House was still congested.

O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O

Andy's surgery had been scheduled for the next morning; the rest of the team along with all of the requisite neurosurgeons and pulmonologists had spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in dress rehearsal for the risky procedure. Foreman and Chase had left for the night, and Cameron looked over to see House tipping his head back and pinching the bridge of his nose. He raised his mug to take a sip, and she notices one of her black walnut and ginger teabags' label fluttering on the side. She steps inside his office and asks softly, "Not helping, huh?"

He looks up at her, trying to focus through the pressure sitting between his eyes. "What gave it away?" he snarked.

"Why don't you go back down to the locker room and try to steam your sinuses open?"

"Fabulous idea. Except I already thought of that." House gets up and stumbles against the corner of his desk, dizzy when Cameron grabs hold of his arm. He snaps his head up to tell her he doesn't need her damn help but she's already dragging him through the door.

O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O o O

She parks him on the bench in front of the lockers, sitting down with a thump.

"Get changed", she orders.

"Oooh, controlling Cameron, me likey," he snarks as she rounds the corner to turn on the taps for the steam. His whole body aching, he eases out of his jacket, both shirts and drops his jeans to his ankles before he remembers to kick off his Shox. He's more out of it than he previously thought, he muses. He's down to his boxers now, and struggles to his feet. Rounding the corner, he sees Cameron laid out on one of the benches, a towel beneath her. She's in a navy Speedo racing one piece that on anybody else would be considered modest but on her…House was in the middle of a fantasy involving a diving board and Cameron when she finally tilted her head up.

"I thought you might've passed out – I was coming in to check on you."

"No need. Why do you keep a swimsuit in your locker, little mermaid?"

"I swim a few days a week at the Princeton natatorium." She simply replies.

-0p/;

House filed away this new piece of information, and pondered the question as to where to sit, Cameron's feet or head on the single bench. He decided the view was better from the top, and settled himself next to her head. She never opened her eyes as he sat, and he took advantage of his position to observe her tranquil features, porcelain skin disappearing under her tight suit…the gentle curves of her breasts and the tight cinch of her waist.

House was in the middle of resuming his earlier fantasy when she popped her eyes open to look at him above her, the sudden eye contact between them dizzying in more ways than one. "Are you getting warmer? Is your chest opening up?"

He murmured something, and even though his heart was galloping in his chest he slowly raised a single finger, tracing from the dimple in her cheek down to her jawbone and up to her earlobe. He rested there for a moment, before following the path of her carotid artery down her neck and skimming the neckline of her suit.

"Yeah, infinitely warmer."

Cameron let out the breath she didn't know she been holding. She brought her elbows back to prop her back, and bring herself closer to his face. From this position she could get up and leave, or…this thing, this connection between them could finally breathe.

Now she was the dizzy one. House brought his hand to her cheek, and stroked the bone underneath before lowering his head to brush across her lips with his own. At the contact Cameron took a sharp breath, feeling a shot of adrenaline race through her chest and come to rest, tingling between her legs. He notices her heightened response, takes it as a yes and lowers his head for another kiss; this one asking, probing. He tastes like ginger when he tentatively licks her bottom lip.

She sits up suddenly and swings her legs under he; House immediately steels himself for the litany coming and her inevitable retreat by dropping his head. But she doesn't run; she stands in front of him, waiting. He raises his eyes to her, searching her implacable expression for the answer to what she's thinking. Cameron takes his whiskered jaw in her small right hand and tips it up higher. She drops her lips straight onto his for a kiss that doesn't ask, but _takes_. Not at all what he was expecting. Emboldened, he reaches up behind her, stroking her shoulder blades. She takes the moment to break the kiss, catch her breath and sinks to her knees in front of him. She never wavers under his gaze, trying to plumb the depths of his blue eyes and see what's behind.

He never takes his eyes from hers, and startles slightly when he feels her warm hands on his knees, nudging his legs apart to move closer. After that small hiccup in control, House's lips twitch in a small smirk, daring her to see how much farther she's willing to take this. He shouldn't have doubted her; she takes hot fingers and trails them up the inside of his thighs with her fingernails. He takes a deep inhalation, reveling in the sensation of clear breathing passages and the progression from engorgement to full blown. Pun intended, thankyouverymuch. The reaction isn't lost on Cameron either. Her thighs are trembling and she wonders if he notices. He does. He also sees her beautiful skin turn a deeper pink rising from her chest to where her ears look like they're about to burst, they are so bright red. He reaches up to touch that heat, putting his palm flat against her sternum. He lets it drift over to her side and cups the underside of her breast, judging its weight. They are a bit on the small side for his taste, but anything larger on her frame and she'd look out of proportion. Even in the steamy heat of the locker room her nipples are diamond hard and aching; leaving his palm cupping her he rolls his thumb across one. Her eyes finally close and her head tilts back. He needs no further invitation.

His stubble leaves her skin an even deeper shade of rose he notes, traveling up the column of her neck. He licks her to cool the burn; he thinks of jungle cats and the way they bite necks during mating. He doesn't think about it, but does the same. Her reaction is the same in the human world: total submission. Her knees about ready to give out on the cold tile floor, he pulls her up to a crouch and yanks her against him. She instinctively moves her legs wide to straddle his lap, thighs on the outside of his, groin to groin. They both sigh at the contact pressure. He moves his hands down the sides of her ribcage and back up, this time hooking the straps of her swimsuit in his fingers and pulling them down.

He is still beneath her. She finally opens her eyes to see his eyes roving over her chest. "So beautiful," he murmurs. It's been a long time for both of them; they both are hypersensitive to each other's touch and it makes the moment pass much too fast. He lowers his head to nuzzle her breast, running his tongue on the underside taking the place of his hand earlier. Her mouth forms a perfect O as she closes her eyes against the riot of feeling that his mouth his making. Her fingers lace through his thick hair of their own will; she's not even aware of their mutiny from her body. But House needs no further encouragement because this is the rare moment in his life when his mind is quiet, and he can hear his body's whispers. Or right now, shouts.

He pulls her suit further down her torso, revealing her ribs and her waist. Her skin is translucent, moon kissed and he loves that he marks her with his touch as his mouth moves over her stomach. She is so small, or maybe he is that large; his hands make a perfect circle around her more perfect waist. A flitting thought about the law of universal ratios skates across his mind before he can catch it. Her arms slide on his shoulders, pushing herself up to a standing position from which she looks down on him with glowing eyes. His hands still haven't given up claim on her waist so she covers them with her own to guide her suit down the length of her, achingly slow. She thinks he'll drop his to look at her, i inspect her /i - and she's right. But instead of his trademark critical examining stare is an expression of worship, mixed with possessiveness. He stares at her greedily, like his own personal goddess idol that he can keep and carry in his pocket.

Her hips are surprisingly rounded for such a thin woman, and House responds with a primitive growl deep in his chest. His hot palms are on the back of her knees urging her to step out of her swimsuit before sliding up the back of her thighs. She takes a sharp breath as he massages her legs, and her knees buckle as his long fingers find her center and brings his face closer to smell her, taste her. She decides to advantage of her half-crouch by tugging his boxers off, not that it's a cohesive thought. More like desperation to get to him like he gets to her. He lifts a bit to assist, but he's entirely preoccupied with his own endeavors. She does most of the work and is she ever rewarded: he is thick, long and pulsing. This is no boy, this is a man. She shivers in anticipation and decides enough foreplay. Well, almost.

She pulls him up roughly to push her tongue between his lips. She may be non confrontational, possibly even submissive in her professional life but when it comes to love and sex she gives as good as she gets. She gets lost for a minute, plumbing his depths before she remembers her original intent and doesn't even take a breath before she kneels and swallows him whole.

Take that, Ahab. I got your whale right heah.

A huge breath explodes out of House's chest along with a few choice expletives. He doesn't dare look down because he knows he'll lose it for sure. He can only gasp a few ragged breaths in and out before hooking his thumb under Cameron's chin. When she presses her tongue flat against the underside while sliding her lips around the purple head he can't take anymore without exploding spontaneously in her warm mouth, so he pulls a little on her jaw to let her know. Her lips are bee-stung and rosy and he can't take his eyes off them as he pulls her forward to resume her previous position straddling his lap. Guiding himself into her inch by agonizing inch he sees and feels her hold her breath. It's clear she's not doing this often by the time she needs to adjust to him. Not that he's Casanova – he's all too aware that if lets go too far this will end before either one of them is ready. She releases a shaky breath and starts to rock back and forth in his lap, holding on to his shoulders for anchors. He watches her in a quiet wonder. She is so beautiful like this, completely free and feeling.

He leans forward to capture those beautiful lips; the rumors as to a possible oral fetish are entirely true. Nibbling on her lips to taste her soft moans, he dips his finger into her mouth. She sucks on it hard, wrapping her tongue around the knuckle. Apparently she's got her own fixation as well. He pulls it out of her mouth to trail down her chest, between her breasts, taking a brief dip in her navel before submerging out of sight between their bodies. She sucks in a breath, stilling her rhythm for a heartbeat that he can feel between her legs. She positively pulses around him, over him. His finger moves languidly. She's like a newborn star, ready to explode at the slightest fuel and shine light on any darkness around her. He's ready.

Wrapping his other arm around her waist he encourages her lean back a bit, even though he can sense she's a little fearful of falling backwards, or worse, putting pressure on his bad leg. He reassures her with his strong arms and soft eyes so she lets herself drift back in his embrace when she realizes what he wanted. Keeping time with his ministrations on her clit, his erection takes a new angle in their rhythm and all of a sudden she feels the throbbing head of his cock flush against her G-spot. Before she can whisper a word her arms flail to grab his forearms, anything to steady herself as the first wave of her orgasm washes over her. As her pelvis muscles flutter and pinch around him, a deep groan rips out of his chest and echoes off the tile walls, magnifying. He doesn't slow but keeps the steady pace as he presses a thumb into her clit, setting off a sharper spasm within her. If her first was a wave, this is a tsunami and finally, lets himself go. His balls feel like they are going to explode, his ejaculation is so forceful. Apparently it's not lost on Cameron either, as she makes a sharp hiss at the sensation of all the newly added heat. It feels like a gift being filled with him, and in a way it is.

They hold on to each other, coming down from the high of the moment and catching their collective breath. He mindlessly traces her ribs on her back as she rests her head on his shoulder, rubbing her lips on his neck stubble. She wants to be branded for as long as she can. Finally the afterglow subsides, and she raises herself on her knees off his lap, wincing at the soreness in her thighs. He catches her expression, leans over to grab the long forgotten towel and wraps it around her hips while rubbing her quads. He leans forward and plants feather kisses along her belly, as she hums above him in pleasure, her hands threaded through his thick brownish gray hair.

"Somewhat of a reversal, not being the one with a sore leg," he chuckles.

"But worth every ache," she breathes.

Their eyes meet, finishing the conversation but not asking any questions. Certainly not what, or why. Although they are both wondering….Again?

"Let's jump in a hot shower and soak for a minute. Then I'll let you buy me dinner," he offers glibly, gingerly getting to his feet.

She raises her eyebrows at his audacity as a smirk tickles the corner of her lips.

"I think I already made the home run. The date part is sort of unnecessary now," she deadpans.

"Not for you, for me. If it gets out that I'm that easy nobody will even bother taking me out again. I'll be the American Gigolo," he says woundedly.

She rolls her eyes and lets out a guffaw. "Okay, Richard Gere. I'm hungry too."

"But we should have something hot and spicy, help keep your head clear. And if that doesn't work, we know what will," she winks suggestively. She stands on her tippy toes to plant a soft kiss on his chin and then pirouettes while dropping her towel and sauntering off to the shower. She doesn't look back to see his stunned face, and his mouth agape.

It takes him less than two seconds to recover and amble after her.

FIN


End file.
